


second verse, distinct

by Elendraug



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Beach Sex, Biting, Blood Drinking, Bloodplay, Bulges and Nooks (Homestuck), Canon Compliant, Catharsis, Dirty Talk, Divergent Timelines, Dream Bubble Sex (Homestuck), Dream Bubbles, Emotional Intimacy, Enthusiastic Consent, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, F/M, Frottage, Gillplay, Illustrated, Lazy Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Nipple Piercings, Nipple Play, Non-Penetrative Sex, Nook Fingering (Homestuck), Piercings, Purring Trolls (Homestuck), Quadrant Blurring, Rainbow Drinkers, Semi-Public Sex, Sensuality, Sex Games, Slow Sex, Troll Gills (Homestuck), Trust, Vampire Sex, Xeno, difficult conversations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 13:07:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19151632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elendraug/pseuds/Elendraug
Summary: PORRIM: It has me thinking abo+ut o+ur rebo+o+ted lives o+n Alternia, and what we grew up to+ be.PORRIM: Makes me wo+nder abo+ut fate. If it's so+mething that's even co+mprehensible.LATULA: y34h?PORRIM: Fo+r instance, o+n Alternia, my relatio+nship with Kankri seemed to+ make so+me sense. I co+uld definitely see o+ur lives beco+ming entangled in that way, karmically speaking.PORRIM: But then there were o+ther develo+pments that are still mysterio+us to+ me.





	second verse, distinct

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fox_Salz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fox_Salz/gifts), [oncewewerezombies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oncewewerezombies/gifts).



> I can never decide if I want trolls to have nipples or not but in this one they do, so enjoy
> 
> No archive warnings apply to the events of this fic, but there’s discussion of Mindfang. Heads up. I don’t _personally_ think sensual vampire shit counts as “graphic depictions of violence” but YMMV.
> 
> I was supposed to be writing stuff for 6/9 and for Karkat’s wriggling day, but I paused those to write a bunch of stuff for Cronus, and I paused an entirely different Cronus fic to write this, lmao. I know I’m so past due to join the alpha troll party but better late than never
> 
> Thanks to my pals who got me to officially crawl out of the vwoodwvork to write this and to all the fantastic artists who’ve drawn this ship for years, I appreciate you
> 
> this is the first f/m fic I’ve written in years that isn’t part of a threesome? amazing. they’re both incredibly queer and I love them
> 
> ♫ [lana del rey - doin’ time](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b6UazdAlqhs)
> 
> takes place in [this location in openbound](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/537866892224757780/583491041743863812/Screenshot_2019-05-29_at_9.13.46_PM.png)
> 
> also inspired by [this post](https://botgal.tumblr.com/post/156300804089):
> 
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> 

“Let’s play a game.”

Porrim lies down on a snuggleplane that is not yet wet, despite its proximity to the dream bubble shoreline. It will become sodden in time, from one source or another, inevitably.

Her clothes are already discarded; her dress and underwear and shoes are set in a neat, folded stack on a separate towel, just beside the blanket. The sun of something resembling LOMAT shines down, broken only by the slight shadow cast by a jagged lunar rock formation that erupts from the shallows and provides a nominal amount of privacy.

“Yeah? What’re the rules?” 

Cronus lies down beside her, equally undressed, although his clothes are in a somewhat messier pile next to him. His jeans are at the base with his belt still threaded through it, with his leather jacket elevated away from the sand, and his shirt sandwiched between. His boots simply have to fare for themselves; they were already exposed to the elements by virtue of walking here with her, and sit with their heels in the beach.

“You mirror what I do, and that’s it.” She rubs her feet against the blanket to shake off the grains of sand that have clung to her skin. “That’s the only rule.”

“That’s the only rule,” he repeats, grinning at her and brushing his webbed toes against the fabric, mimicking her motion, even with less of a pragmatic purpose for his effort.

Porrim laughs, and Cronus joins in with her laughter before she places a finger against his lips and shakes her head. “Okay, since it’s become necessary to clarify: you don’t need to echo what I say, just what I do. Use your best judgment.”

“Buncha people would say you’re crazy to trust my judgment.” He kisses her fingertip.

“That bunch of people are the ones judging me.”

“Fuck ‘em.”

Porrim grins at him. “I did.”

She lifts her left hand to run her touch down his side, from his ribcage below his gills and lower to rest at his hip.

Cronus does the same, inverted, with his right hand down over her grubscars, over the ink embedded within her skin.

“This is a trust exercise,” she explains, with her thumb brushing over the jut of his pelvis. “There’s so much to enjoy about sensuality without rushing to sex.”

Cronus rubs his thumb over her hip in return. “I enjoy you.”

“Thank you. I’m glad to hear that.” Porrim raises her hand to trail her claws lightly back up along Cronus’ side, skating delicately over his gills, and all the way to rest on his collarbone. “Let’s enjoy each other.”

“Not that we don’t already do that on the regular, but what’s up now?” He brushes his claws over her side and traces the smoke-swirl of her ink with one fingertip before letting his hand rest on her body. “This is kind of a change, yeah?”

Porrim brings her hand along his throat, upward still, to find the piece of hair that curls against his jawline. She takes it between her fingers and plays with it until she lets it fall gently from her fleeting grip. “Could be that I just want to spend some time with you. It’s not like we’re running out of _that_ very soon.”

Her hair is longer than his, although not especially so as it sweeps in front of her ears. Cronus follows it along the side of her face and teases it away from her cheekbone. He then jumps track to a lengthier section, which he gives the same treatment: caught between his forefinger and thumb as he runs his touch all the way down to where it has settled over her arm, at her mid-back.

“I’m not opposed,” he says, watching his hand as he lets the softness of her hair slip from his grasp. “Feels like there’s probably more to it than that, though, so if there’s more, and you’re ready to share it, just let me know. Whenever.”

“I’ll tell you in time, since we’ve got some.” Porrim lays her hand on his upper arm and squeezes as reassurance. “You’ve come a long way, haven’t you?”

“I’ve come and got some, for sure.” While his tone is something to match his shit-eating grin, the juxtaposition of his words with the fond way his fingertips settle onto her skin is not something that’s lost on either of them. He squeezes her arm and holds the muscle for a brief moment before releasing the tension. 

“You don’t have to worry so much.” She curls her fingers around his elbow and tests the way his skin moves over the bone when she rubs at the spot. “You don’t always have to have a comeback at the ready.”

“Yeah, I know.” He touches her where the ink encircles her olecranon. “But I love the way you laugh.”

Porrim smiles at that, and tilts her head against the blanket, aware of the slight shift of the sand beneath the cloth.

Cronus tilts his head, too, until his horn nudges a furrow into the shore, just like hers has.

“I love that you’ll laugh with me,” she says, with her blank eyes focused on his face, with the _and not at_ implied as she follows the line of his ulna down to his wrist, down to tangle their fingers together. “As we revolve through my quadrants.”

“Chalk it up to anthropocentrism.” He holds her hand. “If chalk’s involved.”

She huffs a laugh, as a short exhale through her nose. “I don’t know that drawing any variety of grid is necessary.”

“No lines in the sand?” Cronus shifts to move his left arm out from under his ribs and crook it around his head. He looks at her from over his forearm. “Any more talk like that and we’re gonna hear a whistle.”

Porrim doesn’t comment on him taking an independent action; instead, she mirrors his motion to push her hair back from her face and pillow her head on her right arm. “There’s a distinct difference between the intentionality of refusing to be trapped within rigid definitions of relationships, and eschewing boundaries altogether.”

Cronus smiles at her. “Keep it up. I’ll keep an eye out for nubby horns on the horizon.”

“Careful.” Porrim curls and uncurls her claws on Cronus’ palm. “If this discussion hits any closer to hive, our hypothetical observer might have to observe himself.”

Her palm is inaccessible with the way she’s touching his hand; Cronus runs his claws over her knuckles instead as their fingers flex against each other. “He’s lucky he’s hypothetical. I think he might explode if he saw this.”

“Explode?” Porrim raises her eyebrows, the gold glinting and lifting with her expression. “A second time?”

Cronus gives her a sly look. “A second coming, maybe.”

Porrim laughs outright and Cronus beams.

The sun is warm on their skin as they rest with each other. Intermingled dream-scents float to them on the bubble’s shifting breeze: sand heated by the sun, sand soaked by the surf, the saltwater itself, nearby foliage, the lunar construction of a castle, and acrid-metallic inflamed tissue.

Cronus catches himself nodding off as soon as he becomes abruptly aware of Porrim’s fingertips stroking the side of his face and tracing the tines of his fin. He brings his hand up to touch her cheek and approximate the affection even without any sea dweller attributes present.

“Hello,” she says, voice quiet.

“Hey, what’s new?” he asks, colloquially.

“In nastier circumstances, some might consider it immensely rude to fall asleep while sharing a moment with an intimate partner.” She brushes his hair back from his temple, finding her way through the waves with her fingers. “On the contrary, I think it’s an example of the exact trust we were here to demonstrate.”

“What can I say? I got comfortable.” He runs his fingers through hers, combing out any transient tangles, and letting his hand come to rest on her chest, just below her collarbone, with the ends of her hair twined with the slight webbing between his fingers. “I could get used to this.”

“You could, could you?” Her hand strokes over the base of his horn, then around to the back of his head to continue playing with his hair, soft without the presence of product.

“Yeah.” Cronus strokes his knuckle over the line of her tattoo, then looks back up to her face, unadorned by her usual makeup. “I really could.”

Porrim looks back at him, at peace. “Now that you’ve completed your trust fall via falling asleep, how relaxed would you like to get?”

Cronus raises his hand to follow the shape of her horn, to catch up with the steps he’s behind. He runs two fingers along its length and to the tip, then skates them down to the uptick to ollie off the handle and cup the back of her head. He’s at ease when he asks the question. “What’d you have in mind?”

“Challenge mode. There’s a new rule.” She shifts closer on the blanket and moves her right arm again, to slip her hand between his cheek and the fabric so that she’s holding his head in both hands. “How slow can you go?”

“As slow as you want.” His eyes close and he sighs into her touch, and rearranges his limbs enough to touch her face in return. “We’ve got all this time to enjoy each other.”

Porrim is taller than he is, even without her shoes, and she crosses her left leg over his right to run her toes down his calf. There is still sand clinging to her skin, and it’s easy to imagine it as spilled from an hourglass that’s been shattered and deemed irrelevant. “Would you like to have very lazy sex with me?”

“You know I would.” Cronus uses his right foot to run his toes down her right calf, closer to the blanket, his knee between her legs. “But I know you always wanna ask to be sure.”

“You’re right, I absolutely do.” She bites her bottom lip, with the ring gleaming gold between her fangs. “I’m a stickler like that.”

“I like it, though.” He bites his lip but lets go more quickly, without the jewelry to accentuate the effort. “I like knowing where I stand, and not having to wonder with you.”

“Far better than the alternative.” She keeps her hands on his cheek and at the nape of his neck, respectively, and guides his face closer towards hers. “Let’s make out, shall we?”

“Yeah, let’s do it.” He runs his fingers through her hair and supports her in place more than moving her anywhere. “It can be sloppy if you want.”

Porrim smiles, very close to his mouth. “We’ll see.”

Cronus lets his eyes fall half-lidded, lets himself focus on the proximity of her face and the stable press of her fingertips on his skin as she keeps him near. He parts his lips and exhales, and on the inhale notices again the signifiers of her favorite scents, whether from her hair or skin or even her tidy pile of garments. 

Gentle, shallow waves lap at the shoreline a few feet away, and Porrim darts her tongue out to lap at his bottom lip. Cronus does the same, the tip of his tongue touching to her lip ring before he waits for her to take the next steps. 

They fall into a rhythm that still avoids feeling routine, regardless of repetition. She kisses him with one hand on his chin and the other petting along his fin. He allows her to lead, lets her hold his skull in her capable hands as he kisses her back.

His fin flutters beneath her fingertips; she brushes her thumb over it in a way that’s impossible for him to duplicate on her without a similar structure available. Her ear isn’t the same, but he can still find the cartilage in the curve of her helix and give her attention in that way.

“You feel good,” he says, simply, when he pulls away for brief moment to speak the words aloud instead of just thinking them to himself or anyone else who was involved; to his knowledge, there’s no one present who could be privy to his thoughts but himself. “Kissing you feels nice.”

“That is certainly my goal.” She lets out a breathy laugh and moves her hands away from his face, back down to rub at his shoulder as she tilts her forehead against his, with their bangs brushing. “This should all feel nice.”

“It does.” Cronus lets his hands rest against her hair and her cheek for a fraction of a second longer past the unspoken signal to relocate them. He nods, and feels her eyebrow piercings against his skin, just shy of his scars. “You do.”

“Our bodies are meant to be enjoyable,” she says, as she moves her hand down to tweak his right nipple between her finger and thumb, “not to be a source of fear.”

“Ah,” says Cronus, lowering his hands, one between the two of them and one on her shoulder, in a delayed copycatting. “Ah, fuck.”

She continues to run her thumb over his skin until it peaks, until she can get enough of a hold to twist just slightly, until she has him letting out a shaky breath. “Like so.”

“I like this.” He takes the cue to catch up with her once again and run his fingertips down from her shoulder to her collarbone to her breast. He pinches her left nipple between his fingertips and rolls the pads of his fingers over her until her skin is stiffening like his, already raised from the barbell through it. “I like how you touch me.”

“I like that you’ll tell me.” Porrim takes his bottom lip between her teeth gently, so her fangs won’t pierce him. She runs her tongue over his lip and sighs as his fingers find a strategy that has her en route to unsheathing. “I like that you’ll touch me on my own terms.”

Cronus’ breath hitches, and there’s a guilt-ridden note to the words when he whispers back to her. “How could I do anything else?”

Her hand seeks out the lightly-defined muscle of his chest and cups as much of his pectoral as she can manage to gather into her hand. It’s too close to his ribs to fit into her palm the way her breast fits into his, as he follows her unspoken instructions and gets a grip on her. They spend a short while stroking their thumbs over each other, with Porrim sighing against Cronus’ mouth as he lets it fall open to pant the results of her attentions back to her.

“I’m surprised you haven’t suggested we make _swveet_ music together,” she teases, with her words as much as with her touching. There’s wetness and heat gathering between her thighs, and she runs her toes down along his leg again.

“If you’re serious, we actually could.” He moves his foot along her calf and offers her a smile. “Just gotta record some samples, and I’ll mix them just for you.” 

“Truly the soundtrack of our afterlives.” Porrim rubs at his nipple in slow circles, relentless and gradual, until he’s squirming beneath her touch. “Let’s listen to it on repeat.”

“Just one big endless loop.” He squeezes at her breast, supports it against gravity with the way it’s settled against her sternum. “The two of us like this.”

Without moving her hand from his chest, she kisses him again, soft and slow. “Like a double mobius handjob.”

Cronus flexes his toes against the back of her leg, as he invokes her name. “Porrim, _please_.”

“Just feel it.” She flicks her thumb over his nipple, keeps it braced against the side of her index finger to hold it in place for her as she stimulates him. “Don’t rush it, Cronus.”

“I’m not, I’m just...” He falters, struggling to find the words, as if he’s fishing for the best way to phrase a stanza. He laughs, breathlessly. “You turn me on. A lot.”

And that’s all it takes for her bulge to begin to slide out from her sheath, its tip emerging dripping with jade between their bodies. She sighs and finally relinquishes her hold on his chest, to change it up and stroke her fingertips lightly over his gills, over his grubscars, feeling out his ribcage and the varied textures she finds layered atop it.

“You’re really hot,” he says, honestly, unashamed especially now that he knows that his commentary is welcome. “Just, wow.”

“I feel likewise.” She lifts her right hand up from beneath her body to catch his hand and keep it firmly against her breast, while lowering her left to rest at the small of his back, just above his ass. “Would you kiss me some more?”

Cronus takes in a sharp breath, his face flushed violet. “Would I ever.”

He runs his touch over her tit and catches her nipple between his middle and ring fingers, allowing the webbing to butt against her nipple and its smooth jewelry as he closes his fingers together. He works his knuckles back and forth until her lips part, at which point he leans in to kiss her again, eyes closed, tasting her tongue and pressing back against her hand when she slips it down to grope his ass.

She hooks her leg around his and draws him closer, prompting him to lift his knee between her thighs. They both have jade smeared across their grey skin, indicative of her arousal. 

Cronus is still kissing her when she reaches between his legs from behind to rub her fingertips against his nook lips. As soon as she slips her touch between his folds and begins to slide his wetness around, his bulge unsheathes itself in one fluid motion and curls against his thigh, with a sticky slap of slurry over his skin.

“Hah, _fuck_.” He breathes through his mouth and keeps his tongue available to touch to hers, shivering at the heat of her attention, her body against him, the blanketed sand beneath him, the sun above him. “Is the game still on?”

“The game is still on, my dear friend.” She presses her lips to his in a close-mouthed kiss, the ring pushing lightly against him. “Slowly, now. Follow me.”

He laughs, flustered, and kisses her back quickly. “Forward march. To orgasm.”

“To pleasure, and likely to orgasm, but let’s not overly focus on our end result.” She dips her finger between his folds and strokes over the entrance of his nook. “Just be present here with me.”

“God, you get me so worked up.” He tenses his pelvic floor and she can feel his muscles at work, from his ass to between his thighs, around the sides of her finger. His fingers are still working over her nipple with the softest scissoring motion, his hand keeping her cupped and lifted, his palm squeezing her. “I’d do anything you asked, Porrim.”

Her bulge curls around itself at that, and she reroutes the heady power trip into the diligent, consistent fingering of his nook lips, without ever quite entering him. “I would only ask so much,” she says, at last, to set the scope.

His eyes fall closed and he licks his lips, exhaling against her and rocking his hips back against her hand. “Tell me what you want. Tell me what I can do for you.”

“There are so many things I would like to do with you.” She pauses the conversation long enough to listen for the slick sounds of her fingers rubbing against his violet-soaked skin. The blanket is not long for this world. “For now I’d like it very much if you’d pinch me a bit harder.”

Cronus instantly acquiesces and indulges her, pinching harder but only with the pads of his fingers, never his claws, moving across the metal to tug the tiniest bit. He exhales shallowly and looks at her, eyes barely open. “How’s that?”

“That’s perfect.” She kisses the corner of his mouth, then pulls back to brush her nose against his. “Do you like how I’m touching you?”

“Yeah,” he sighs, squeezing his thighs around her hand and his hand on her chest. “You make me feel so good.”

“Your nook is so nice to touch.” She moves her middle finger back and forth on its own, at an increased pace but still nothing approaching _quickly_. “You feel so wet and soft around my bulge and underneath my tongue.”

“Fuck,” he gasps, as excited by the praise as the continuous stimulation of her fingertips against him. “Mm, are you thinking we should do one or both of those things?”

“As much as I love when you spread yourself open for me, now isn’t the time.” Porrim pulls her hand away from him after a brief, gentle double pat over his nook lips. “I think our bulges deserve some attention, don’t you?”

“Fuck, Porrim, _yeah_.” He drags the webbing between his fingers over her nipple to switch up the sensation before going back to rolling it between his fingertips, careful never to let anything snag. “You gonna be my tangle buddy?”

She snorts, unable to stifle the laugh. Her bulge has enough length that it drags itself over his thigh before meandering back closer to her own, their hips too far apart for them to make guaranteed contact. “That was my plan, if you’re on board for it.”

He hesitates, and the pause is long enough that she almost says something, before he replies with, “Was trying to come up with a skateboard joke but I’ve got nothing. You said I don’t have to make so many jokes, anyway, so. Hey.” He gives a reclining half-shrug and she feels the shift of his shoulders in his grip on her breast.

Porrim smiles at him and kisses him while trying not to laugh so hard that it interrupts the effort. She raises her left leg even higher, to bring her thigh up over his hip, and lets her bulge do whatever it likes between them.

Cronus’ fins flutter against his hair and against the blanket when her bulge winds a sinuous path over his stomach. As it seeks out the slickness of his own bulge enough to trail over the tip, he moans into her mouth, and she’s there to catch it on her tongue.

There’s no way to position his leg around her waist as she has with him, but it’s besides the point; he shifts closer in general in response, to allow her to rub the slickness of her nook over his thigh. Cronus changes the location of his arms and curls his right arm around her back, with his fingertips pressed to her shoulder blade, beneath the softness of her hair, eager to hold her. He lifts his head away from the blanket, leaving it pressed into the sand with the indentation of his horn, and settles his chin onto Porrim’s shoulder.

Porrim drags his wetness over his hip as she traces her fingers across his skin, lightly urging him to push forward towards her. Her bulge twines with his in a slippery intermingling of jade and violet, and her length is enough to coil well around his with some to spare.

“Porrim, fuck.” Cronus’ fin twitches against the side of her neck, and when her bulge tightens around his, he starts panting. “Oh, fuck.”

“Shhh.” She takes a cue from him and pets up along his spine to hold him in return. “Come here. Breathe. Just be here with me.”

Cronus takes deeper, slower breaths in an attempt to calm himself. He focuses on the smell of her hair, the smell of the surf, and allows the gliding sensation of her bulge moving over his to enter his awareness the same as any other stimulus.

“Okay, I’m breathing. I’m breathing with you.” He presses a kiss to her shoulder, independent of any particular ruleset or game state. “God, you feel so fucking good.”

“I have a request,” Porrim begins, with her hands gently stroking his back. “I would like to bite you.”

“Yeah. Do it.” He tilts his head to the side, his temple against her shoulder, his bulge twisting as his fins twitch. “Just watch for my gills.”

“Of course.” Porrim presses a kiss to his throat, over his gill slits and then just below them, and poises her fangs over the junction of his neck and his shoulder. “I wouldn’t want to hurt you. Not more than you’d allow.”

“Make like Ahlyss in Wonderland.” Cronus steadies his breathing as much as he can, relaxing into her arms instead of giving in to the instinct to brace himself for what she’s about to do. It’s painful if he tenses up, but becomes something he can appreciate if he allows her to do her work in ideal circumstances. “Drink me.”

Porrim hums against his skin and kisses the spot again before letting her fangs sink into his shoulder. Violet blood flows out onto her lips and onto her tongue as she laps it up. 

Cronus fights against the reflex, refuses to wince, and instead keeps his attention locked to the constant curling of her bulge around and over and under his, as wet as he is but warmer and thicker than his own. He feels his pulse in the tight points of pain in his muscle, but the presence of her fangs is temporary, lasting just long enough to pierce into him.

“You are delicious,” she soothes, and her words are purred enough to match the contented rumbling that’s picked up in her ribs. “Thank you for this.”

“Any time, Porrim.” He allows her to lick at him until the blood begins to coagulate, the tissue healing itself slightly faster than those outside of his caste. “Glad to give it up for you.”

She’s left with a new metallic taste on her mouth, her lips coated with violet flavored by copper and iron, just as savory as any further down the spectrum and not especially moreso. The significant difference is that it’s his, and that it was offered freely, on a special occasion, as a reminder of time previous spent in undeath when such feeding was a necessity and not a niche interest.

“Why don’t you give it a try?” she suggests, kissing beside the two clotting marks but not disrupting them. “It’s only fair, isn’t it?”

“If bloodletting is egalitarian. You tell me.” Cronus shifts to press his thigh against her nook, to give her another outlet for obtaining satisfaction. “Do you want me to?”

“If you’d like to, I’d like to try it from the other side.” She runs her tongue over her fangs to clear them of his color, but the violet tint remains on her enamel. “Your teeth should be sharp enough just as they are.”

“Yeah. I’d like to.” Cronus runs his tongue over his own teeth, prior to mirroring her in the most significant way yet. He lowers his lips to her throat and kisses her skin, just over her pulse point, just below her jaw. It’s too intense of a location to bite her, however, and he kisses down her neck until he’s at the same spot she’d drawn his blood. “You ready?”

She nods her assent, still purring, her bulge still twisting around his, her nook soaking the skin of his thigh. Her hands rest on his mid back, her wrists resting over and pressed against his gills, depending on which side. The sand has depressed enough to allow her arm some modicum of hollowed-out space beneath his body, but still not enough to be completely comfortable.

Cronus lets his top row of teeth rest against her, and tries to put pressure primarily into the few at the front and center, to better emulate how she’d broken his skin. Jade blood, rarely if ever consumed by a drinker, spills onto her skin as soon as his teeth have pushed into it.

“Shit,” she hisses, inhaling sharply next to his throat. Her purring cuts out. “Ouch.”

“Want me to stop?” he asks, the words mangled by the lack of use of his hard palate.

“No,” she assures him, firmly, shaking her head. Her left horn briefly knocks against his right; her claws tense against his back. “I need to know what it’s like.”

Cronus lets his teeth rest in the meat of her shoulder, unfrenzied, with any aggressive impulses to thrash or tear utterly absent. He takes in the scent of her, stilling himself in the intensity of this invited intrusion.

After a moment that feels like eternity but contains few elapsed seconds, he lifts his teeth out of her and runs his tongue over the series of marks to clean up the blood. He tastes her in a way he’s unaccustomed to, green like copper soaked in seawater. When he finishes lapping up her blood, he presses a kiss to her shoulder and leaves a smeared impression of jade over the work of teeth that could have shredded through her like a chainsaw, but didn’t.

Porrim takes shaky breaths, and Cronus brushes her hair back, well away from her shoulder, before resting his chin against her like he had previously. “You good?”

“Yes,” she confirms. Her bulge becomes more active around his again. “I’m good to go.”

There’s violet clinging to the gold of her lip ring when she kisses him, with jade at the corners of his mouth, and when their tongues touch they taste the same. She runs her fingers into his hair, tugging lightly at the back of his head, and he hardly needs an excuse to thread his fingers through hers and pull, just a bit, just the way she likes. He’s wet and slick and so is she, and the sand shifts beneath the blanket, beneath their hips as they rock together and allow their bulges to seek every sort of surface contact they can.

“I don’t want to move from this spot,” Cronus murmurs, licking at her jewelry to lave away remnants of himself. “We could just stay like this. No one could stop us.”

She traces her tongue over his cheek to return the favor and wash the jade from his skin. “You’d hope we could make a space for ourselves.”

Cronus laughs. “Yeah, exactly.”

“Then we’d better revel in it while we can, right?” She kisses his jaw until his fins flutter, until the hint of her fangs returning to his throat has his bulge coiling tightly with hers, has him chirring as she frots herself on his thigh. “Relax with me. Release everything you’ve built up.”

He laughs again, the tone affected by her attention. “Not sure if that’s supposed to be about pathos or pailing.”

“Both,” she says. “Whatever you need it to be.”

He rolls his hips against hers until their bulges touch at the base, until their nook lips nudge together at the outside edges, as his thigh wedges as close to her as he can manage.

“I don’t know how much longer I can last,” he sighs, with his hand in her hair, well aware of the ample wetness at his nook, at hers, sliding slickly and consistently between them as they press against each other. “You feel really good.”

“Last as long as you like.” She kisses at the bite marks on his shoulder and thrusts down onto his thigh as her bulge and nook drip jade slurry onto him. “I’m getting close, too.”

Cronus takes her earlobe between his teeth for a fleeting moment before speaking against her cheek. “Come for this. Come for yourself.”

“How sweet.” Porrim smiles against his shoulder and shudders, rocks her hips more insistently, slides her hand down to grab his ass. “I’ll come for myself _and_ you. How’s that?”

The heat in his gut coils and twists as much as his bulge, tightening and staying taut with his stomach muscles. His face feels warm from something besides the sun. “That’s smoking hot, Porrim.”

“Mm, like you?” She digs her fingertips into his asscheek and shakes it. “I appreciate the imagery of things going into your mouth.”

He lets out a short moan next to her ear and brings his chest flush to hers, her breasts pressed between their bodies in a way that’s satisfying to both of them. “I’d lick all that jade off you if you asked me to.”

“I might take you up on that later.” She places her fangs against his neck but doesn’t bite down; it’s enough to smell the lingering traces of his blood on his skin. “Since you’re so eager to please.”

“You know it.” His attention is torn; there are too many sources of stimulation to focus upon, from her hand on his ass to her bulge around his, to how much he wants her to slide her bulge inside him, whether it’s up his nook or into his mouth. His pulse is pooled between his legs and the more she continues to twist slickly around him, the less he can hold off. “ _Fuck_ , I’m close.”

“Then why don’t you come for this, Cronus?” she asks, echoing back the earlier sentiment, amused but not unkind. She gropes his ass, and keeps her fingers just shy of touching near his nook or his wastechute. “Come for yourself.”

“ _Ahh_ , fuck...” Cronus takes his hand out of her hair and slides it between their bodies to grip her tit, and her nipple is well on its way to peaking beneath his palm, the metal making itself present against his skin. “Fuck, I’m gonna come.”

His bulge twitches against hers, and when hers tangles its tip around the tip of his in just the right way, akin to an especially lewd pinky swear, that’s enough to bring him off. Cronus ducks his forehead to Porrim’s shoulder and moans as he comes, shuddering, his fins twitching, his breath hitting her collarbone as he exhales. Slurry floods from his nook as it convulses, and his bulge pulls tightly around the base of hers.

Porrim rubs herself down against his thigh for a few more heated moments before she pails all over him, her nook lips slick with her orgasm as she thrusts. She groans through it as she fondles his ass, as he fondles her breast, as he breathes raggedly against her skin.

“Cronus,” she gasps, still pushing herself against him, with her hips and her chest. “I’m still _so_ close, I want to come twice.”

“Fuck, you’re as worked up as me.” Cronus pulls back just enough to lower his head down from her shoulder, breathing in the scent of the sweat trapped between their bodies, excited by their exertion. He cups her in his hand and raises her tit upward to meet his mouth, takes her nipple between his teeth, and alternates flicking his tongue against her, nipping at her, and sucking at her until violet-tinted saliva is coating her skin. When he speaks against her, his breath is cool over his evaporating spit, over the barbell warmed to her body temperature. “Come on.”

Porrim turns her head and presses her cheek against the blanket, lets her horn push against the sand through the fabric, and throws herself into rocking on his thigh, feeling her bulge tangle itself tightly with his, and clenching her nook when his teeth and tongue tease her nipple in the right ways. She moans against the fabric, exposed to the sun with the exception of where their bodies cover each other. As soon as he sucks at her again, as he strokes his thumb beneath the swell of her breast and runs his fingertips over her grubscars, between the trailing lines of her tattoos, she grits her teeth on a groan and climaxes a second time, with her thighs locked tight around his leg and her bulge locked tight around his.

She lets out a desperate “Oh my _god_ ” that lands somewhere between a cry and a whine, and she’s far too turned on, too into it, and too into him to even begin to consider feeling embarrassed about it. With her eyes shut tightly, Porrim keeps rocking her hips, and grips his ass to keep him against her as she vocalizes through another “ _god!_ ” and draws out the sound until she trails off into a throaty trill, shivering and dripping slurry against him again.

“What the fuck, you’re so hot.” Cronus chirps against her chest and laps at her, squeezes at her. “What the actual fuck.” 

“Your turn,” she gasps, and she reaches once more between his thighs, her wrist curved over his ass, and rubs her fingers between the dripping folds of his nook. The lubrication is so generous that there’s no resistance at all, and she’s able to stroke him from just past his wastechute all the way up to the base of his bulge, jostling his nook lips as her fingertips pass over him.

“Fuck, Porrim!” Cronus groans and sinks against her shoulder, loud and wet and wanting, his bulge thrashing between them and still twisting tightly with hers as he rocks back against her, as she fingers him to completion. He rolls his hips forward to press their bulges together and back to push toward the slide of her fingers. “Holy _fuck_ , I want you, I want you to fuck me!” 

She drinks in his words as if those were her lifeblood, and she works her hand more quickly over him until he’s grinding towards her fingers, trying to draw them up into himself, his bulge moving wildly on hers.

He cries out against her shoulder, against the marks he left, and she can feel his slurry pulsing out onto her busy fingertips as she brings him off and stimulates him through the duration of his orgasm.

“You’re so good,” she gushes, effusive, unconcerned with what anyone else in the multiverse might think of her for saying it. “Just look at how hard you came on my hand. You’re so good.”

“Fuck, I love how you get me off.” Cronus struggles to catch his breath as she rubs his release over his skin, sliding it all over the space between his legs, at the entrance of his nook and his inner thighs. He rests his chin on her shoulder and catches the scent of her sweat and her hair, with faint traces of her blood. “I love how you look when you come.”

“I love how _loud_ you are,” she sighs, lifting her hand up behind his back and bringing her fingers to her mouth, just over his shoulder. She licks his genetic material off her hand and emphasizes the suction over her claws until she can feel his fin fluttering against her face. “You’re so responsive when I touch you. It’s so much fun.”

Cronus takes deep breaths as he holds her, his limbs tangled up with hers, their bulges still twined together, if beginning to become more lax. There’s a low thrill from the extended contact, and he’s not interested in resheathing as long as he can help it. Her slurry is streaked across his skin, and vice versa, and the sun is already beginning to dry it. He doesn’t care. The water is right there when they want to rinse off.

He runs his fingers through her hair and exhales gradually. “I never want this to end.”

Porrim clicks her tongue with a note of regret. “It has to, at least a little. I’m losing circulation to my arm.”

Cronus shifts to allow for both of them to make themselves more comfortable, and he settles into resting against her with his head on her shoulder as she lies on her back. His bulge curls against her thigh as he drapes his right leg over her left. “This better?”

“Much.” She brings her arms around him, resting her hands over his ribs, ghosting her fingertips over his gills. “I think we’ve sufficiently broken in this blanket.”

He snorts a laugh and brings his arm across her chest, just under her breasts, and idly strokes her grubscars, undecorated on her left side where he’s touching her. One on her right side has a barbell to match her left nipple; the metal nudges his skin as he cuddles close to her. “I think it soaked through. Sex marks the spot.”

“The treasure is us.” She scratches her claws lightly through his hair and over his scalp, around his hornbeds. “What more could you want?”

“A record deal, maybe.” He can tell Porrim’s gearing up for a retort, so he rushes to add: “Just playing.”

“Playing with you makes for a good time.” She runs her fingers up along his horns and lets her eyes close against the sunlight, lets her head tip back against the blanket. A small amount of sand has begun to creep onto it at the edges, from the amount it’s shifted as they’ve moved vigorously on top of it. “Is it all right if I share something... difficult, with you?”

Cronus nods against her shoulder. “Sure. Shoot.”

“I’ve been thinking a lot about fate.” She brushes his hair back from his forehead. “As we’ve received new information about the rebooted timeline we set into motion.”

Cronus snorts, less charitably. “Yeah, about that rebooting.”

Porrim traces her fingertip over the top edge of his fin. “I know.”

There’s a moment of quiet, of them holding each other on the beach, listening to the small waves that can manage to pick up within such shallow bodies of water, before she continues speaking.

“In another timeline that we haven’t been privy to until now, something horrible happened to me.”

She pauses again, to determine the best way to phrase the accusation.

Cronus tightens his hold around her chest while he waits for her to speak, and releases the tension in his touch once she finds the words.

“Our associate who’s just bursting with exposition has not been forthcoming with these details.” Porrim runs her hands along his upper arm while she speaks, where the sleeve of his t-shirt has left his skintone differentiated in the rays of these other suns. “I’d like to think she had no knowledge of events when she and I were intimate during our session, but due to the nature of paradox space, I can’t say so with any certainty.”

He sighs against her chest, breathing out over the tattoos that cross her collarbone; his leg is still crossed over hers, but his bulge is entirely resheathed from the severity of the conversation. “What happened?”

“Her alternate self was unconcerned with my consent.” There’s a justified harshness to her tone. “The only thing that put an end to my torment at her hands was my death.”

Cronus’ fins fold down, and he lifts his left hand up towards his own shoulder, to find her right hand and thread their fingers together. “She killed you?”

“No.” Porrim shakes her head, and he feels her hair shake along with the gesture. “You did.”

Cronus freezes and begins to pull his hand away, but she tightens her grip on his hand and rubs her thumb over his knuckle. He doesn’t know what to say, so he doesn’t say anything, and simply holds her.

“It’s attributed to jealousy or some variety of hemospectrum-based bigotry, but I’m not unaccustomed to reading between the lines of a Serket original.” She relaxes her hand somewhat, so that her anger is not directed into his phalanges. “Even the most renowned self-styled documentarians are subject to fictionalization and bias, and I’m gradually realizing how far her web of lies extends.”

“Not that I doubt you,” Cronus begins, to reassure her of his position, “but how do you know all this?”

“I found her source. An ancient Alternian journal, stashed away like so much other detritus in this dream bubble.” She takes a deep breath, and lets it back out. His head rises and falls with her chest. “I believe the perception of your alternate self’s actions has been molded by the agenda of the diary’s author.”

“What’d I, uh. What’d he do?”

“Set the wheels in motion to bring her to trial.”

Cronus nods against her chest, listening.

“No one would approach the head of a clown cult to complain about relationship squabbles.” She shakes her head again, aggravated. “Unless those supposed squabbles were actually appalling, and being downplayed by the one recounting her version of the truth.”

Cronus squeezes her hand. “Not unless they’re asking for a death sentence. Their version of culling, yeah?”

“That’s right.” She squeezes his hand in return. “You know how strong she’s become while no one was looking. Just imagine that strength with the support of a fleet.”

He huffs, discontent. “If those grandiose plans hash out the way they’re all thinking, we won’t have to imagine it.”

Porrim frowns. “No, we won’t, will we.”

Her blood is still on his chin, from resting it against her shoulder while they were fucking. Cronus feels it as he resettles his head against her shoulder, where it’s dried and sticky over his skin. “Was there...” He hesitates, uncertain of the words to use. “What else did you find?” 

“I found the full depths of her violation of my person, presented as if they were romantic overtures. I would never want to live with a mind that wasn’t my own.” She takes in a deep breath and lets it out. “You did something brave for me that went unrecognized for what it was. You intervened to stop my violation from continuing in perpetuity. The details are so sparse, and it’s so difficult to pinpoint facts versus fabrication, but I read it time and again to tease out the meaning.”

Cronus’ heart rate picks up, and he sets his jaw. “The meaning?”

“If you had to send an assassin to carry out the work, to ensure you were outside of her sphere of influence during those moments, after leaving your primary weaponry behind in your initial haste to escape her ship... And if what she’d done to me was blur my ability to discern where her suggestions ended and my decisions began, then I have to assume that I was not the first of her quadrants that she had—”

He screws his eyes shut towards the end of her sentence, and he swallows hard before lifting himself up and finally mirroring her first action, to place his finger against her lips and discontinue the speculation. “Porrim, please don’t.” He looks at her with wide eyes, trying to keep it together. “I don’t want to know what she did to me. I’ll take your word for it, that it’s beyond bad.”

She looks up at him, startled from her explanation. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize to me.” He shakes his head and leans down to kiss her forehead before resting his own against her neck and shoulder. He speaks against her throat in a rush. “You can tell me what happened to your alternate self, and I know there’s overlap between our stories, from what you’ve said. But if it’s as bad as it sounds, I just would rather not know the full extent of what happened to me in that timeline.”

Porrim immediately brings her arms up around him and holds him, all things silent save for the noises from the water.

He breathes with her, his mussed bangs against her body, and takes in the warmth and the stillness of the moment. 

“Why don’t we end this conversation for now,” she says, at last, with her hands running up and down along his spine. “Since I can’t reach your other self, I just wanted to thank you for not looking the other way.” 

“It wasn’t me, exactly, but if it helps, you’re welcome. I’m glad I could do something, and I’m so sorry she did that to you.” He kisses her collarbone. “I can’t see myself not looking at you, anymore.”

“If you ask me, it’s best to look at things and see them for what they really are. To clear away the debris and see what it’s all made of, if that makes sense.” 

“Light’s supposed to be a disinfectant, isn’t it? But here it fucked everything up because of who was in charge of it.” He lifts his hand and gently taps her on the nose with one fingertip. “ _Lumos_. Go get ‘em.”

Grinning, Porrim takes the hint and activates her rainbow drinker bioluminescence. “I fully intend to.”

“I know it defeats the purpose of all those pale inclinations we’ve got in the revolving doors,” Cronus starts, settled beside her, “but I’m suddenly less invested in [defending the world from you](https://archiveofourown.org/works/288446). I’ve got your back, whatever you wanna do.”

“Well, to begin, I thought I’d send a message out into the multiverse and hope it will circle its way back to her, even if just thematically. As a rumor, or a whisper.” She brushes her fingertips over the gills at his throat, then rests her hand on his shoulder. “If you feel similarly, maybe you’d like to join me.” 

“I’ll co-sign it.” He kisses her collarbone again, secure in her embrace. “How are we broadcasting this?”

“In lieu of a message in a bottle, let’s go with addressing the ocean directly.” Porrim fondly twirls the hair next to his fin once more and turns her head to kiss his forehead, over his scars, before sitting up entirely. She turns around and tosses her hair back, pleased to be streaked with sweat and slurry from touch that she wanted, even if salt from the wind and her skin has reached the bite in her shoulder.

Cronus sits up, rotates himself, and waits for her cue, watching as she braces her heels on the blanket and rests her elbows on her knees, her legs spread apart. He mirrors her posture, one foot out to the side and off the edge into the sand, to ensure there’s space enough for her.

Porrim lifts her right arm into the air and flips off the horizon, where the blue of the sea meets the sunset-parchment of celestial cartography. She jabs her hand further above her head for emphasis. “Up yours, Mindfang!”

“Yeah!” Cronus catches her drift and raises his left hand in parallel. “Fuck your ‘kindness’!”

She wraps her left arm around his shoulders and turns her head to kiss him, still gesturing defiance to the amalgamated memories of various Serkets, seated in front of the mess they’ve made on the blanket and stained into the sand. Cronus kisses her back, and makes no move to lower his hand until she does so first.

“Cathartic, isn’t it?” She takes a deep breath and lets it out, blinking blank eyes against the glow of the sky. “But there’s so much left to do, now that I know. She’s had an audience with my denizen, after all, and that’s an occurrence I’m reevaluating with this new context. She obtained information she’s disseminating for her own purposes—or someone else’s—and I can’t say that I’m a fan.”

Cronus slides his arm around her lower back, supportive, relieved for the weight of her arm around his shoulders. “What do we do now, Yolorosa?”

“We stop her, Coolscar.” She tilts her head to lean it against his. “But first, if I recall correctly, you offered to lick all this jade off me. Is that offer still on the table?”

“Well, it’s on this blanket, at least.” Cronus’ fin flutters against her hair. “It could be in the water if you prefer.”

She taps her fingertips on his upper arm, amicably. “We’ve already taken back the beach. We could give it another go at reclaiming the water, while we’re at it.”

“Besides, we didn’t go very slowly that last time, did we?” Cronus lowers his head to rest his temple against her shoulder, his horns separating the strands of her hair as he gets comfortable. “Gotta give that another try.”

He reaches for her free hand, and when she lifts it to meet his, they lace their fingers together. 

“You’re spot on,” Porrim agrees. “Let’s do it even better next time.”

**Author's Note:**

> [sgt-spank](http://www.sgt-spank.com) has [illustrated](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/279038012501786624/588885329973608479/image0.jpg) this, holy shit??? thank you omg


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